Page 31 of Fearless Sinner

Staring at him, I pick up the last piece of bruschetta and eat it.

His eyes drop to my lips and he watches me eat.

It’s strange. Like this, he really does seem like a regular guy. But the fact that I know he’s not is setting off the warning bells in my head.

Cillian O’Ridian is dangerous. Worse than Nathan dangerous. He just knows how to handle himself.

Our first meeting was him invading my mother’s home with an army of men.

I should be fleeing like the fires of hell are up my ass, not sitting here eating with him.

“Apart from Italian, what food do you like?”

“Thai and French, but I’m not really fussy.”

“Good, that gives me an idea of where I should take you to dinner on Saturday.”

My brows shoot up and my scalp tightens. Did he seriously just say what I think he said?

The mischievous look in his eyes tells me I heard him right.

Dinner?

He wants to take me to dinner?

“Um. Dinner?” The mere one-word question sounds incredulous outside my head.

“Dinner.” He speaks in a definitive tone, spreading his arms across the back of the seat as if to show his dominance.

Think fast, Chloe. This can’t happen. It can’t. No matter how gorgeous he is. “That might not be such a good idea.”

“Why not?” His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow to questioning slits.

“Because you can’t take me to dinner.”

“That’s not an answer. If I wanted to take you to dinner I’d simply throw you over me shoulder and we’d be on our way.” His Irish accent sounds more distinct—and sexier—when he’s being firm. And suddenly I can’t get the image of him picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder caveman-style out of my head.

“Are you always like this?”

“Only when someone catches my interest.”

“And what would the head of the Irish mafia find interesting about me?”

“Everything.” A sinful smile floats over his lips, as if he’s thinking about what my everything means.

The simple word clings to the air around us, warming my skin again. This guy could make me forget everything. But logic and reasoning kick in, pulling me back to the land of common sense. “It would be weird for me to go to dinner with you. And I’m not really doing that—dinners with… other people.” After Nathan I don’t know if I could date anyone ever again.

Cillian leans forward, resting one elbow on the table. “We should see about that.”

My lips part. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like him. He’s literally not taking no for an answer and a small, traitorous part of me likes that. The part of me that would love to feel alive again.

I feel guilty for that feeling while Mom is so sick and I’m sitting in a sinking ship.

The door opens and a host of people walk in. There are at least twenty of them. Groups like that usually arrive after a show. We’re not that far from Broadway.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave.” Cillian stands and places two hundred dollars on the table by his plate.

I stand too and look at the money. “That is way too much for bruschetta.”

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